Melting Steel
by maddz131
Summary: He is fighting for honor. She is fighting for a life. There is little place for romance in a game that breeds cruelty and death, but sometimes things fall together in unexpected ways. Neither wanted what fate won't let them deny, but how can it be right when the circumstances are all wrong?
1. Igniting the Fire

**Disclaimer: The characters belong entirely to Suzanne Collins.**

**Hi everyone. I was tired of searching fruitlessly for good Cato/Katniss stories. I've found a few good ones but I want more! So I decided to write my own. :) I don't know if it's any good but let me know what you think.**

**This first chapter is in Cato's point of view but the rest of the story will all be first person in Katniss' POV. I have nothing more to say except, enjoy!**

** - maddz131**

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**Chapter 1: Igniting the Fire**

"I volunteer!" Cato's eyes flash back to the screen to see a dark haired girl, about his age, step frantically forward. "I volunteer as tribute!" He is momentarily confused: District 12 never has volunteers. He watches as a little girl latches onto the volunteer and begins to plead hysterically, tears streaming down her face.

"No, Katniss! No! You can't go!"

Ah, he blinks in understanding. The girl volunteered in place of her little sister, who couldn't have been older than twelve. He had seen children thrown into the games every year, without fail, but not once had anyone ever volunteered to go in their place. He had only been twelve when his own brother, thirteen years old, had been reaped and thrown into the Hunger Games. A bitter taste still filled his mouth whenever he thought of that day. He quickly forces it out of his mind.

"Prim let go. Let go!" The tribute commanded, trying to pry off her sister off. Finally, someone else intervened. A dark haired boy, similar in complexion –perhaps a relative– came forward and grabbed hold of the child, pulling her off of the tribute. Free of her restraints, the girl made her way slowly up to the podium. Her face was completely devoid of emotion, not a hint of fear or trepidation written anywhere in her expression, but Cato was almost certain that inside she was screaming. There was something in her grey eyes that told him she was far from fine.

"Looks like you're not alone after all, Cato," Clove smirks, glancing up at him as she lazily cleans her fingernails with the tip of her blade. "And here I thought there would be no excitement this year."

Cato sends a steely glare her way. "She'll be no competition Clove," Cato snaps, before turning back to the screen. There were no others that could compete with him; in strength, size, and skill he had surpassed every tribute so far. But he finds himself questioning his own words as he takes in the hard grey eyes and determined look on the girl's face. It is obvious in the way she's standing. She is a fighter.

"Well, bravo! That's the spirit of the Games!" Cato doesn't hold back from rolling his eyes at the tittering of the ridiculously enthusiastic escort. _All the escorts must be the same,_ he thinks, _overly_ _cheerful and obsessed with manners_. It's as if they didn't realize they were sending people to their deaths.

"What's your name?" the escort asks, as if she's talking to a five year old. Cato feels his fingers twitch in irritation.

The tribute hesitates for a second. When she responds her voice is quiet but strong. "Katniss Everdeen." Her name rings out in the silence of the square and the camera pans around to take in the somber, rough faces of the people of District 12.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister! Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" Cato feels his fists tighten and he clenches his jaw in anger at the words of the idiotic escort. _She's not doing it for glory_, he wants to shout. _She's sacrificing __herself__._

"Cato." He looks over at Clove, who has stopped cleaning her nails and is now looking at him questioningly, her brow furrowed. He immediately loosens his tense muscles and dons an indifferent expression, shrugging his shoulders at her before moving his eyes back to the screen. To his ultimate satisfaction, not one person clapped in response to the escort's speech. Not one. He wonders briefly why it matters to him at all. He doesn't generally care about people.

The dark haired girl's jaw is now clenched and Cato narrows his eyes as he focuses back on the screen. He is sure that she is holding back tears but, before he can completely decide, the camera has zoomed back in on the District 12 escort for the drawing of the male tribute. There is a pause as she pulls out the slip of paper, and then–

"Peeta Mellark."

A long moment goes by when no one moves, before a section of the crowd slowly parts to reveal an older boy with blonde hair, incredibly similar to Cato's own. His mouth is open in fear and disbelief as he reluctantly moves towards the stage. Cato smirks at this blatant display of weakness. This boy will obviously not be a threat. When the new tribute finally reaches the stage, the difference between the boy and girl is so large it's almost comical. It is obvious the male is from a higher social circle than the girl, but while she holds herself with a stoic determination that Cato finds himself unwillingly respecting, the boy stands stupidly, frozen in shock.

"He'll be easy to take out," Clove murmurs, voicing his thoughts. Cato dips his head in agreement. His eyes move back to the girl. Katniss. He has a feeling that she will pose more of a challenge.

"Did I miss anything significant?" Enobaria and Brutus walk in right as the reaping ends. Being the mentors of District 2, they are used to having tributes that already know what needed to be done and looked out for, since most of the tributes from District 2 had been training for the Hunger Games their entire lives. Cato and Clove were no exception.

"District 1's tributes look decent this year," Clove informs them. "District 4 are pathetic though." It was traditional for the Career tributes -the tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4, who had trained for the Games nearly since they were born- to form an alliance and pick off the weaker tributes, but it didn't always happen that way if two of the Districts didn't approve of the other.

"You will align with them anyway." Brutus informs them. Cato glances at Clove, whose eyes have narrowed. He doesn't like it either. He isn't used to taking orders.

"Why?" He asks sharply, challenging Brutus with a pointed glare.

"Because," Brutus says, glaring back, "Finnick asked me to, and I owe him." Finnick Odair was the mentor of District 4 and Brutus' tone held no room for argument.

Cato stares him down for a moment before shrugging, his face relaxing back into an emotionless mask. "Whatever, they may turn out to be useful anyway." Clove accepts Cato's conclusion and turns back to her knife, resuming her relay of information. "District 3 are hardly worth mentioning but District 5 has a girl that we may have to watch. There wasn't much else after that except District 11's boy. He's larger even then Cato." Cato sit's up, this being news to him, since he was practically asleep at that point.

"What do you mean larger than me?"

"We'll have to watch out for him," Clove continues, ignoring Cato's reaction. He slumps back down in irritation but remains silent, fuming at being ignored.

"They also have a little girl who looks to be about twelve. If he's protective of her he'll be harder to take down. And lastly, District 12. They-"

"Their girl volunteered," Cato interrupts, earning a scowl from Clove.

"_I_ wanted to tell them," Clove grumbles.

"To bad," he antagonizes. Clove sticks her tongue out at him and he smirks. Sometimes it was so easy to forget how young Clove really was. It was unfortunate that, in the end, he would have to kill her. No, it really wasn't. He had no regrets about that. She was cold blooded like him but she actually enjoyed watching her victims suffer. No, he wouldn't be too sad to see her go.

"Wait, what?" Clove and Cato look up at Brutus.

"Yah," Cato says, "District 12 has a volunteer. And from the look of it, she is determined to win. Not that that changes anything," he adds. "I'll still take her down without a problem."

"What about the boy?"

Cato barks out a laugh, "Nothing to worry about." He flashes a grin, his eyes sparkling dangerously and Brutus nods.

"Right, well, we'll be arriving in the Capitol today," Enobaria informs them randomly, before she and Brutus exit the compartment.

Clove turns to Cato, watching as he settles into a more comfortable position. "You ready?" she asks. Cato barely avoids snorting.

"What do you think?" he asks pointedly. "I've been ready all my life."

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Cato looks back at the District 12 tributes. He sneers in disgust as they stand proudly in their chariot, the fire that they donned having just died down. He turns back around to face President Snow, only half listening to the old man's speech. He is so furious he is physically shaking and he clenches his fists tightly to try to control the tremors. This was supposed to be _his_ night. This was supposed to be his night to shine and he got upstaged by those little District 12 tributes who didn't even have a clue what they were doing. It just figured that this was the year they actually got a decent stylist. Cato knew they had just won over numerous sponsors with their cute little "united front" act and literally on fire outfits; especially the girl. He hated to admit it, but she was stunning. That coupled with her obvious fighting spirit made her impossible to ignore. Not to mention she had volunteered in place of her little sister. There were never volunteers from District 12 and no one ever volunteered for their siblings, no matter how young they were. Never. Until now. It was almost laughable how quickly he had gone from feeling something closed to compassion for the girl to feeling nothing less than an all-encompassing hatred.

Cato grinds his jaw to keep from screaming out in frustration. President Snow's speech is taking far longer than it should and all Cato wants to do is get his hands on something he can break, preferably that little District 12 boy's neck. Some would say he had a temper problem. Those who knew him best called it passion. In any case, everything he did and felt was always with one-hundred percent of his energy.

There were very few people Cato let into his life. Most just knew him as the ruthless, handsome Career who was destined to win the Hunger Games. He wouldn't disagree with this description. Always being the best –and knowing it– had led him to an arrogance that no one had the courage to stand up to.

"Calm down, Cato," Clove whispered agitatedly. She wasn't one of the few that he let in but they respected each other and Clove could generally get away with saying things to him that others couldn't. Sometimes he listened and sometimes he didn't. Now, he just clenched his fists harder as the chariot pulled them around into a side room and they were allowed dismounted. All the districts started to break into a quiet chatter as they discussed what had probably been the most exciting moment of their short lives. Their idiotic enthusiasm just irritated Cato further, wearing his already thin grasp on composure down to precarious levels.

He snapped his head around as he heard the District 12 mentor, Haymitch Abernathy he believed, congratulating his tributes on their performance. Cato glared at the back of Haymitch's head with such intensity that the mentor turned. He met Cato's eyes for a moment before quickly turning back around and ushering his tributes into the elevator. The blonde boy went without a question, not noticing anything was off, but the girl, who was apparently more observant, turned in Cato's direction and immediately caught his eye. She looked startled at the force of his glare and turned quickly into the elevator, the doors closing behind her.

Cato stood for a second, rather stupefied at the depth of the girls grey eyes. He'd had the most attractive women in all of District 2 throwing themselves at hall his life, but not once hade he ever encountered someone with eyes like hers. They had seemed to penetrate him, see right through him.

"Done, Cato?" Clove snapped in annoyance. She was used to his temper by now but it didn't cease to irritated her. Cato blinked and was once again filled with a crippling rage. He shouldn't have been affected by this Katniss Everdeen, at all. He was just as bad as the idiot citizens of the Capitol.

"Let's go," he growled, striding powerfully towards elevator. The other tributes parted for him and his pride was flattered by their obvious fear. Clove, Enobaria, Brutus, their escort, and he stood silently in the elevator as they waited for it to reach their floor. He was holding back from punching a hole in the wall and they were trying to avoid aggravating him further.

As soon as the doors opened he strode out into the room before slamming his fist into the first thing he came across. The glass vase shattered sending shards flying everywhere, including into the unfortunate Avox who had come forward to assist them. She whimpered in pain, but was immediately silenced by the dark glare Cato shot her way. Next to go was the table the vase had been sitting on. _They are _nothing _compared to you_, he told himself angrily as he continued to wreak havoc on the room and furniture. _They know nothing, they can do nothing, they _are_ nothing; nothing but Seam rats from District twelve. _His thoughts traveled back to the girls clear gray eyes and startled expression, and he hated the feeling that twisted in his chest at the memory. _She especially_, he thought with vehemence as he took his anger out on the T.V._ She is _not_ attractive. She is less than nothing. Neither of them will last a day in the arena, _he promised himself._ I'll be sure of it. They will die in the bloodbath._ With that thought his anger blew out quickly, like it usually did, like the flame of a candle.

He looked around to assess the damage he had inflicted. Nearly all the furniture had been flipped over and there was glass everywhere. His eyes moved to the people occupying the room. Clove was looking bored as she twirled a knife between her fingers. Brutus and Enobaria's expressions were impossible to read and the escort looked absolutely horrified.

"Well… goodnight," He said casually before exiting the room, entering his bedroom, and slamming the door behind him.

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**P.S.- I forgot to mention that this is my first fanfiction so any comments -good, bad, but mainly constructive- are greatly appreciated. Thanks =)**


	2. Stoking the Flame

**Disclaimer: The characters belong entirely to Suzanne Collins.**

**Hey guys. I appreciate your reviews soo much, you have no idea what they mean to me so thank you! ^_^ I'll try to correct all the mistakes that you guys point out so thanks for those of you who did that as well. I have to be honest, I may not be able to always update once a week. Life is busy so bear with me. I will update once every two weeks at the very least (that's the plan anyway) and the chapters will be considerably long. This chapter is in Katniss point of view. Enjoy!**

**-maddz131**

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**Chapter 2: Stoking the Flame**

I squat down next to Peeta as we reach the knot tying section. I still don't fully understand why Haymitch is making us stick together. Suffice to say, Peeta isn't the strongest person -physically or mentally- that I have ever met. He is nice, honest, but I know that one can't drown their enemies in rainbows and butterflies. Being nice won't save him. Not here. Here, to be kind but weak is to die and to be ruthless and powerful is to survive. To form any kind of attachment to him will just lead me to unnecessary pain since, in the end, only one of us will come out alive. I plan on being that one –the Victor–, which is why I don't understand why Haymitch insists on keeping Peeta and I together. Peeta is admittedly likeable, which is all the more reason to keep us apart. I can't afford to form an attachment to him. Unfortunately, my best shot at survival is to trust Haymitch and follow his instruction. So here I sit like an obedient little dog, learning to tie knots with the one and only Peeta Mellark.

He has said something that I didn't catch.

"What?" I ask, turning to face my District partner.

"He's staring again," he murmurs, flicking his deep brown eyes to the right before hurriedly looking back down. I turn my eyes in the direction he indicated and almost shrink back when I am met by the icy glare of Cato, District two's tribute. I quickly turn away from him and then curse myself for that display of weakness. I turn back and meet his glare, narrowing my eyes at him in an attempt to look menacing.

I don't know much about this boy, but I do know that he volunteered to be in these games for a completely different reason than I. He volunteered for glory, fame. I volunteered to save my darling little sister who is so much better than I am; who doesn't deserve to die, especially not this way. Cato is prepared for these games. He has prepared for them all his life and it shows. He is incredibly well built, his muscles rippling with every move he makes. He is a heartless killing machine, as far as I can tell. I have never once seen him smile; the closest he has come being an arrogant smirk. I must admit that he is attractive, with his sandy blonde hair, and sharp bone structure. I know that that fact alone will earn him some women sponsors, ridiculous as it seems. I have also come to learn that his cold blue eyes somehow have the power to incite fear and self-doubt. He is, without question, the greatest threat.

Peeta and I have caught him studying me more times than I care to admit. Ever since the Tribute Parade, Cato has seemed to have some kind of a strange need to keep tabs on me, which makes me incredibly apprehensive, not to mention confused. I don't know what he is playing at, other than wanting to intimidate me. If that's the case, it is working, but I refuse to let it show. If anything, he visibly intimidates Peeta, which irritates me to no end.

I know we're not the only ones who have noticed his fixation and think it strange. Sometimes, I catch his District partner, Clove, throwing him an odd look whenever he commences in one of these silent observations. Glimmer, the Career from District 1, has taken to glaring at me every time he looks my way. It's as if she doesn't notice the blazing animosity that is, without exception, present in his eyes. But she is vain and selfish –beautiful yes, but nonetheless- and apparently that blinds her. In any case, if Cato's inexplicable hatred of me is gaining me even more enemies I would much rather he leave me well alone. At least I have nearly grown used to these silent stare-downs. Nearly. But you can never _really_ grow used to being glared at by Cato.

His frigid blue eyes hold my own for what seems like a lifetime before he lightly smirks and turns away. I stare at him in shock for a moment, wondering if he really just let me win this, before turning back to the knot I was tying. My heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest and I take deep breaths until I am somewhat more composed.

"You can't keep doing that," I hiss angrily at Peeta who had hunkered down low when he noticed Cato's stare, as if he thought it would somehow make him invisible. I feel him look up at me and can sense his confusion.

"What-"

"You can't let them know they intimidate you," I snap, angrily pulling at my knot, which is now tangled beyond repair. "Don't give them the satisfaction. You have to at least _act _strong, Peeta."

I almost regret the sharp tone of my voice as I see his shoulders slump at my reproach, but I quickly repress the feeling. What I say is absolutely true. If he doesn't quit acting like a terrified quail, the Careers will see him as easy prey, and that can be dangerous for him _and_ for me, since Haymitch seems determined to keep us together for as long as possible.

"Sorry," he says, sounding ashamed. "It's just difficult when they're so..." He trails off, glancing to the side, and I follow his gaze. We watch as Cato takes a sword –his weapon of choice, I've noticed– and quickly, almost elegantly, decapitates the human sized dummy before him, slicing it into several pieces. I look further to the right to see Clove, the other District 2 tribute, accurately throwing knife after knife into mannequins that are at least fifty feet away from her. I definitely don't want to be anywhere near the Careers when I'm in the arena.

"I know what you mean," I admit as I turn back and study my now truly knotted rope. All of the careers, besides District 4, are incredibly intimidating. Though Clove and Cato are obviously the most skilled, Glimmer and Marvel –the tributes from District 1- are apparently well prepared for these Games as well.

"Don't focus on what they can do," I advise Peeta, as I try fruitlessly to untangle my knot. "Watch them for weaknesses, but focus on what your own strengths are, or things you can improve to increase your own chances of survival. For example, I know you're strong. I've seen you lift those huge sacks of flour back at home."

"You have?"

I look up, detecting an odd note in his voice. When I meet his eyes they are glowing with… some unusual emotion. I stare at him for a moment before looking quickly back down, trying to will away the blush that has somehow crept up on me. I shake my head, pulling my thoughts back together.

"Yes," I reply, ignoring my discomfort, "So think of ways you can use that to your advantage. And you can paint as well can't you?" Prim and I used to walk by the bakery and look at all the beautifully decorated cakes in the windows. Peeta's parents were the owners of the bakery and I had heard that the artwork was done by his hand.

"Yes." There is pride in Peeta's voice as he responds. "I always used to paint the ca –"

"Oh, did you, now?"

I turn towards the voice only to find myself looking into Cato's hard blue eyes once again. He smirks at me for a second as if we're sharing some kind of joke, though his eyes are far from amused, before turning to face Peeta. "What? Are you planning on painting us all to death?" His voice holds a dangerous edge, but he lets out a mocking laugh that grates on my nerves and has me grinding my teeth in an attempt control my temper.

"And what about you, Fire Girl?" he asks, turning to me as he uses the nickname I apparently earned from my debut in the tribute parade. "Do you even have any skill?" His tone is scathingly condescending and I feel my fists clenching, despite my battle to stay calm. For once I'm not intimidated by him. I am angry.

"At least bread boy here can do _something_."

"It's no business of yours what I can do Cato," I snap.

He kneels down to my level, and moves forward until his face is inches from mine.

"Oh, but it is my business, _Katniss_," he growls softly, his breath fanning across my face. I swallow, taken off guard by his sudden proximity and the fact that he smells incredible –something masculine and dark with maybe a very thin underlying sweetness. I want to move closer. I shouldn't be feeling this way. He is my enemy.

"Everything that goes on here is my business," he continues, his sharp blue eyes locked with mine. "But don't worry, beautiful." I start at the endearment. "I'll understand if you don't have any capabilities at all. After all," he says, his voice dripping with disdain, "you are from District _12_." His eyes are focused on me with an almost numbing intensity. "Everyone knows that the people of District 12 are worthless and weak."

There is a moment of silence as that comment sinks in. I'm suddenly not so intoxicated by his scent. It had momentarily slipped my mind that he is a ruthless asshole. Thank you, Cato, for reminding me. He startles as I abruptly stand and then he rises as well. I push him forcefully out of my way as I stride purposefully across the room.

I can hear Peeta's voice somewhere in the background, telling me to think about what I'm doing, but I'm beyond thinking at this point. Screw Haymitch and his 'hide your true abilities' advice. There are only two things going through my mind: _fight_ and _prove Cato wrong_. Well, there is also the small chant of _want Cato dead_ but that will have to wait for the arena.

I can't help the light sigh that escapes me as I reach my destination and the familiar curve of the bow settles into my hand. These Capitol bows are obviously different than my hunting one. They're metal, but somehow lighter. I quickly scan the assortment of arrows before grabbing one randomly, since they are all the same. It is made of metal as well and also lighter than what I am used to.

I nock the arrow onto the bowstring and slowly pull it back, relishing in the feel of the tension and my flexing muscle. I zero in on the target nearest me –only fifteen feet away– aim, and fire. The arrow whizzes forward to imbed itself a few inches away from the bulls-eye. A contemptuous snicker sounds behind me before quieting abrubtly.

By this point the whole room has gone silent. Everyone wants to know if the girl from District 12 is actually capable of something. I allow myself a small smile. That had been my practice shot; my evaluation of how this bow responds to me in comparison to my old one. I'm confident my next hit will be perfect.

I pull another arrow and then turn to a dummy twenty feet away. I aim, fire, and–

_Thwack._

Bulls-eye.

I can't hide my smile as I turn and begin to fire at the remaining dummies in rapid succession. I let myself get lost in the exhilaration of the action, finally allowing myself to forget, for just a moment, where I am and who is watching me.

_Thwack._

_Thwack._

_Thwack._

Each shot results in a perfect bulls-eye until I have just one remaining arrow, which I quickly nock and aim at the farthest dummy, 100 feet away.

_Thwack._

Bulls-eye. Again.

I stand frozen for an instant before slowly pulling the bow down from my face. My heart is beating rapidly in my chest and I can't help but throw my head back and let out a laugh at the pure adrenalin and freedom coursing through my veins. I close my eyes and can almost feel the wind on my face and the sun on my skin, hear the soft rustling of trees from my forest back in District 12. Now if only Gale were here with me. If only I had Prim too.

My high slowly fades and my laughter is quick to follow. No. I wouldn't want them here. I would wish this fate upon no one, and certainly not them. I quickly open my eyes and look around me, snapping back into the here and now.

Most of the tributes are standing with their mouths hanging open in shock. A few are eyeing me fearfully, as if I'm going to decide to aim at them next. My eyes meet those of Glimmer and I'm not surprised to find that she is glaring at me with a burning hatred. My lips twitch. I saw her trying to shoot this exact same bow earlier. She sucked. Marvel stands beside her, wearing an idiotic grin. I haven't yet been able to understand him and his ability to laugh at everything and I certainly won't attempt to now. Next, I find Clove, but her expression is impossible to read. She stares at me for a moment in seeming indifference, before pulling out one of her knives and turning away. My eyes slide past her to lock with a familiar ice blue gaze. Cato's eyes hold what appears to be approval. I blink and his face is an expressionless mask.

"Pretty impressive, Fire Girl," he remarks, finally breaking the silence. His words work like magic. Everyone, excepting Clove and Glimmer, seem to wake up, as if from a trance. They look around themselves before resuming their previous activities, while Cato continues to study me.

"I know," I can't help but reply smugly; proud at having proved myself and standing up for my District. I'm still incredibly pissed off at him.

"I knew there was _something _you were hiding from us all."

I scowl, once again remembering the promise I made to Haymitch: hide my greatest skill. He isn't going to be happy when he hears about this.

"Yes, well," I reply, my tone slightly soured, "Now you know. I have an effective means of killing you and I won't hesitate to do so the moment an opportunity presents itself." My tone is bitter and I am surprised by my forwardness; I wasn't aware that I had it in me to so blatantly threaten the great and powerful Cato. Unfortunately, what I said was somewhat untrue. I haven't really considered how I am going to bring myself to actually kill a person. Gale said it was just like killing animals, but I have a feeling it will be very, very different. Though, when it comes to Cato perhaps it won't be so hard.

Something flashes in Cato's eyes and he smirks at my threat. Was that all he was capable of doing: smirking? I suppose it was a step up from the glaring.

"Well," he says, stepping closer to me, "you wouldn't have to kill me right away if we were on the same side, would you?"

I just stare at him, not comprehending his meaning.

"Well we aren't, are we?" I finally retort, doing my best to keep the confusion and irritation out of my voice. I hate these games he plays.

"If you joined us, we would be."

I study him closely to see if he's joking, but his blue eyes, for once, seem absolutely serious.

"What?" I can't help the shock that laces my tone. Is he truly asking me what I think he is? But he can't be. Clove and Glimmer would never allow it. Why would _he_ even allow it?

"Join us Katniss," he sighs, as if exasperated by a lack of intelligence on my part. "Become part of the Careers." I stare at him, making sure my face is void of all emotion. I can't decide whether I'm still angry or now just shocked. This is the last thing I would have ever imagined coming out of Cato's mouth. I stare at him for a moment and he stares back patiently, as if he had been expecting this reaction.

"I think you owe me an apology first," I manage to get out, anger having won the battle. It's his turn to be shocked. His eyebrow raises and he stares at me incredulously.

"Excuse me?" he finally chokes. I give myself a mental pat on the back.

"You don't speak that way about my District and then expect me to join you," I spit. "If you want me, apologize."

He just stands there sputtering while his face turns an interesting shade of red. That probably doesn't bode well for me but I am too angry to really care.

"Do you realize what I just offered you?" he finally manages to spit out. His eyes are on fire and he is looking at me like I'm insane. "You should be honored! Besides, maybe _you_ proved yourself but Mr. Fancy Fingers over there," he rolls his shoulder in the direction of Peeta, "certainly hasn't done much that speaks in favor of your District. He can't even look me in the eye." I quickly look around to find Peeta still standing by the knots, staring at Cato and I suspiciously. It makes me even angrier that I can't argue with him since what he says is absolutely true. I try not to blame Peeta since it's not his fault he's never had to fight for a meal or stand up for himself.

"You owe me an apology." I repeat, choosing to ignore the last part of his argument. Cato notices and his scowl turns into a smirk. I can see the triumphant glow in his eyes and I clench my fist to keep from doing anything stupid. Like punching him in his stupid pretty face.

"I apologize if I offended you by insulting your District, Katniss Everdeen," he says dramatically. "You have proven that you by no means deserve my censure, and so, to you, go my sincerest apologies," he gives a mocking bow that immediately leads me to question the sincerity he claimed, but I know that's the best apology I'm going to get -in all honesty I'm surprised I got one at all- and so I let it go.

"I've apologized," he says seriously, all traces of teasing gone, "so now you're one of us."

"Wait!" I exclaim before quickly lowering my voice. "I didn't agree yet," I say, beginning to think rapidly.

Join the Careers? Logically speaking, this is an amazing opportunity for me. I could go so much farther, so much easier. I certainly don't like any of them, but getting home to Prim is so much more important than something so insignificant. _Peeta _some part of my mind suddenly recalls. I have somewhat started to care for him (_damn Haymitch_) and I don't know if I could betray him this way.

I look in the direction he last was to find that he is making his way over to us, a determined look gracing his features. _No, no, no_ I think frantically. _I need time to think!_

"Why on Earth should I trust you?" I ask quickly, turning back to Cato. There is no reason he would need my skill.

"Think about it Katniss," Cato says. He leans down until his mouth is lightly brushing my ear. I try to keep my head clear, to focus on what he is saying. It's harder than it should be, considering I'm still somewhat irritated with him. "I could protect you," he whispers, and I shiver involuntarily at the feel of his hot breath. He continues, seemingly oblivious of the effect he has on me."In the end, I would have to kill you of course, but I could take you to the very end." He leans impossibly closer and I feel the heat radiating off of his massive form. "It could be just the two of us," he murmurs. "In the end," I can sense a smirk in his tone, "I have no doubt I will be able to take you out."

His voice holds a conviction that is undeniable. I open my mouth to ask him how exactly that is supposed to be encouraging, but isn't done.

"You're strong Katniss, and skilled. If we fight together, there will be no one that can stand against us." Someone clears their throat and I realize once again how close Cato is. Suddenly, this position seems far too intimate.

I quickly step back and look up, to find Peeta standing just a few feet away. His expression is torn between anger, at me or Cato I can't tell, and another emotion I can't place. I'm embarrassingly bad at reading people.

"Well, painter boy, it seems like your girl here can out-do you, hands down." Cato glares at Peeta coldly –an expression that has been so often aimed at me. There is a tension in his jaw that betrays his very slight hold on control.

Peeta glares right back at Cato –I am amazed at his sudden boldness– before turning to glare at me. "Haymitch told you not to Katniss." I bristle at the accusing tone of his voice.

"Yes, Peeta, excuse me for proving that I'm not some useless lump from District 12 that is going to sit by complacently while others insult my people."

There is a moment of tense silence and I realize immediately that my words are a mistake. Peeta is too sensitive and I can tell that he is taking what I said as a personal attack against him.

"You certainly are a fighter, Fire Girl," Cato says, stealing my attention away from Peeta's drenched expression. "I admire that. I'm a fighter too." He is now looking at me impassively, his expression giving nothing away, but I know exactly what he is saying. I think back to his words: _I could protect you, Katniss. I could get you to the very end._ Do I trust him?

"Haymitch is going to be mad anyway," Peeta grumbles, drawing my attention back to him. The fire of his anger was extinguished by my words and I find myself wondering if he has any conviction at all. He doesn't even seem to believe in the merit of his own emotions, they are so easily put out.

I turn and look into the shocking blue eyes of the boy from District 2. There is a strength in them that is as hard as steel and I know that if I could choose an ally based on ability, it would be him, no question. But can I trust him? I stare at Cato's unforgiving, stone-cold expression and an answer comes to me almost instantly. I want to hit myself because, despite all common sense pointing to the contrary, I inherently believe that this boy, this ruthless killing machine from District 2, is being honest with me. And if there is anything I've learned growing up in the Seam, it's to trust my instincts before anything else.

"Consider it, Katniss." Cato says quietly, backing away. His eyes don't leave mine and I can see the amusement dancing in them, causing me to narrow my eyes in annoyance."I think, and don't get me wrong, I could be mistaken,but I _think_ you've made your decision already." He gives me an arrogant grin, now the closest I've come to seeing him smile, and then turns, moving back towards Clove. I sigh, hating more then anything the fact that he's right.

Peeta looks at me questioningly, his anger already forgotten. "Made your decision about what?"

Damn Cato.

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. . .

**Read and review! xox**


	3. Adding Oxygen

**Disclaimer: The characters and Hunger Games belong entirely to Suzanne Collins.**

**I suck, I know. I really thought that I would be able to do the 2 week thing but I went to Antigua, Guatemala (which was amazing!) for 3 weeks and I didn't have access to a computer to write during that time. Anyway, so here it is!**

**This chapter is a salute to an absolutely craptastic day I had awhile back which included dress-code (of their own making) crazy parents, smelly baby dissection pigs, a failed keyboarding test, an almost lost iPhone, an incredibly boring hour of Calculus, a ride in an extremely over-crowded school bus, and a twenty minute walk home in 90 degree heat.**

**I love your reviews and they're why I keep writing. They all give me warm fuzzies! ^_^**

******Peeta is NOT the boy with the bread. I've read too many fics where that phrase is basically substituted for his name and I find it annoying, so in this one I omitted it completely.**

**Also, I wrote some stuff on my profile about me so look at it if you want.**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

** -Maddz**

**. . .**

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**...**

**Chapter 3: Adding Oxygen**

After Cato's offer it hasn't been hard to reason out that my best course of action would be to join the careers. Despite their reputation and what my District might think of me due to my choice I have to do everything I possibly can to make sure I make it back to Prim.

I lay awake, wondering if she will forgive me if I go through with this decision. Wondering what she will see me as when she watches me kill other tributes as I am sure I will have to do, especially since I will be with the Careers. Then I wonder if I should have told Haymitch about this at dinner. Peeta kept his mouth shut about my display, for which I am thankful. I haven't yet told anyone of Cato's invitation but I don't want Haymitch to try to change my mind. I will tell him after I tell Cato.

I stay up well past midnight worrying, the guilt of my decision already eating at me. I finally fall into a restless sleep at around two in the morning only to be disturbed by a nightmare.

_I can see myself. I am standing in the middle of the Careers with Cato at my side. We are in front of the Cornucopia which is in the middle of a small island surrounded by what appears to be miles of ocean. I can only suppose that's what the ocean looks like since I have never seen one for myself. In any case there is water for as far as the eye can see. The other tributes are scattered randomly around the small island, but their faces aren't those of the District tributes. They are people I know, people from my District. I see Peeta's parents first, his irritable mother and soft-faced father. Then I see Gale's siblings Rory, Rick, and Posy all huddled together and his mother with her arms wrapped around them. I see Madge, the only girl my age that I can call a friend. She is standing by her father- District 12's mayor- and her mother. The rest of the tributes faces are indecipherable and I can't tell if I recognized them or not, but they are all incredibly young, no older than Prim._

_It is silent and I fight back panic as an increasing sense of apprehension takes over me. It is too silent, like the calm before the storm._

_Suddenly a voice crackles from somewhere above and then someone is speaking._

_"**Let the Hunger Games begin!**_**"**

_I watch in horror as the Careers and I surge forward, weapons appearing in our hands as we fall upon the helpless tributes. I try to scream but no one seems to be able to hear me, least of all myself. I watch as I viciously began shooting people down with my bow. Posy, Rory, Madge, Peeta's father. Cato is beside me, cutting down people while laughing a horrid, manic laugh that chills me to the bone. All of a sudden Peeta is before the bloodthirsty me and I can hear him begging, pleading._

_"This isn't you Katniss." He says desperately, "You don't want to do this, you can't! You're not supposed to be a monster! You were never meant to be a Career." I watch myself stare at him before my mouth curves up into a viscious smile. I am covered in gore and my eyes are shining with a primal hunger. A hunger for blood. It seems as though I have gone insane. I know what I am going to say before I even see myself open my mouth._

_"This is me, Peeta. This is our only choice. It's this or die. Take your pick."_

_There is a hard glint in his eyes. "I want to die as myself. I won't let them turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not."_

_I smile cruelly at him. "As you wish."_

_There is an arrow through his throat before he can make a sound. Cato lets out a disturbing laugh beside me. Everyone but the Careers are now dead and so we turn on each other. Cato and I stay side by side as we cut down tribute after tribute until we are the last two standing. I watch as we turn to face each other, both of us covered in blood and smiling hideously._

_A voice crackles again from above and we look up. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the winners of the 74th Hunger Games!" Cato takes my bloody hand in his and raises them above our heads._

_ Seemingly out of nowhere boats appear on the water and I see my mother, Prim, and Gale floating towards Cato and I. __My mother just looks at me sadly, her eyes empty, but Prim emmiting terrible, gut wrenching sobs that tear at my heart._

_"Why Katniss?" she cries out as the boat lands on the sand. I see myself move to step towards her but she shrinks back with fear in her eyes. "You killed everyone! You're not my sister! You're a monster!"_

_I appear shocked by her words and step back only to bump into Cato. "I told you we could do it Katniss." He whispers in my ear, blood from his mouth dripping onto my neck. I can hear a smile in his voice. "How does it feel?"_

I jolt awake, covered in a cold sweat and my face wet with tears. I look at the clock to see it is three in the morning. Unwilling to close my eyes in fear of what else my mind will create, I get out of bed and lurch my way to the elevator. The doors open and I slip in, pressing my head against the cold metal of the door as the elevator takes me up to the roof of the building. My stomach is churning and my head is throbbing, my heart beating too fast. The doors slide open and I walk across the open patio to the side overlooking the city. I lean over the balcony and try to console and rid myself of the sickening coldness that has settled in me. _That won't be me_. I try to assure myself. _Joining the Careers doesn't mean I am one_. The words only do so much. I can't calm the sick churning of my stomach or make fade the vision of Prim, looking at me in terror.

Not only will I be hurting Prim, but betraying Peeta. _What will it mean if I turn my back on him?_ His father's kind, smiling face appears in my mind. He has always been kind to my family. How can I do that to him? I can imagine his face as he watches me or Cato, my partner, kill his son. Then I imagine coming back to a district that knows I have killed one of my own. Imagine their hatred of me, silent but poisonous, just outside my walls as I live in the victor village, wealthy and alone.

_Okay, okay wait, _I say to myself as I try to calm the steady panic that is building in me. _First, joining the careers doesn't mean I'll have to kill Peeta. _The feeble argument is hardly enough to make me feel better, but I pretend it is truth. _And surely District 12 will understand. They'll know that I just did everything necessary to survive, to get back to Prim._ I have the sudden revelation that I don't have to make this decision alone. I will ask Haymitch. He'll know the best course of action. Of course he will.

A sense of relief washes over me for the fact that I hadn't answered Cato with my first instinct. I don't know what I had been thinking but I am sure that, had he not told me to think about it and walked away I would have been a part of the career pack at this moment. A laugh threatens to bubble out of me in the irony that his attempt to be suave had possibly brought an end to his own wishes.

I inhale a deep breath, taking in the cool Capitol air, and am finally calming down completely when I hear the elevator doors slide open again. What follows is a giggling of such an obnoxious pitch it can only belong to Glimmer. I am about to turn around to let her know that she is welcome to _leave_ when I hear another voice that stops me cold.

"You have to be quiet," Cato whispers in a rough voice that sends goose bumps running across my skin. Something in my chest tightens as Glimmer giggles again and I grip the ledge of the balcony tighter in my nerves and irritation.

"Of course I'll be quiet for you Cato," she whispers in what must have been her "seductive" voice. "I'll do anything for you." She sounds winded and ridiculous but I hear Cato groan and shuddered to imagine what exactly it is they are doing. I am sure they haven't seen me yet and am afraid to turn around. I hear the squeak of a chair and risk a peek behind me. Cato is shirtless and hovering over Glimmer who is lying back on what Effie had called a sunchair. It is dark but I can see the definition of his muscle and have to force myself to look away from his well toned back. He isn't exactly faced away from me but more at a 90 degree angle. The chair they are using is enough to the right that I have a clear path back to the elevator. If either of them turn to their right they will see me, but they seem rather preoccupied at the moment.

I keep my eyes on them while I slowly slink off the edge of the patio and move towards my escape. Now that I am completely in the open I feel more vulnerable and I can only pray they don't turn. I quicken my pace as Glimmer moans. I really don't need to be hearing this. I am starting to feel nauseas again but I make it safely to the elevator and slip in, frantically pressing the button for my room. I chance one last look at the couple as the doors slide closed. Cato's harsh blue eyes are boring into me and my heart nearly stops. I only have time to register that his expression is one of disbelief and frustration before the elevator doors close completely.

I stand with my heart pounding in my chest as the elevator makes its way down to my floor. Blood is rushing in my ears and I suck air into my lungs in labored breaths. _He saw me, he saw me, he saw me, he saw me._ My face is heated in absolute mortification. _What am I supposed to do?_

The elevator doors slide open and I step into the living room of our flat as I try to control my breathing. I go quickly to my bedroom and quietly close the door behind me before slumping onto my bed. This is starting out to be a horrible day.

...

* * *

. . .

I clear my throat somewhat nervously but square my shoulders before just spitting out, "Cato asked me to join the Careers."

There is dead silence as everybody stops what they had been doing. Peeta freezes with a forkful of food halfway to his mouth, Effie stops dabbing delicately at her lips with her napkin, Haymitch's hand ceases the motion of wrapping around his flask of who-knows-what. Everybody is now staring at me in varying degrees of shock. We had been eating dinner after a stressfull day. After my dream and subsequent run-in with Cato and Glimmer in the early hours of the morning I had dreaded going into the training center. I hadn't asked for Haymitch's advice at breakfast, being too shaken up by the look in Cato's eyes when I had caught him. I wasn't even sure if the invitation was still open or if he wold be angry enough to revoke it. I had basically ignored him when Peeta and I arrived at the training center, hoping he would do the same. It had worked for the most part but occasionally our eyes would meet. Each time I looked away quickly, not wanting to come over. At lunch he finally confronted me.

"Have you made your decision?" He had asked coldly, his voice and eyes betraying no emotion.

I swallowed nervously but when I answered my voice was strong. "Not yet."

He nodded as if he had expected this. "You have until tomorrow," he said, his voice holding a warning note. I nodded and he stalked off, joining his fellow careers. Luckily Peeta was still getting his lunch so I had been at the table alone. And that had been it. He hadn't so much as looked at me for the rest of the day. The butterflies in my stomach had slowly been growing as I considered the best way to tell Haymitch the news, but then I figured that Peeta deserved to know as well so I decided dinner was the best time. And so here we are.

"What was that, sweetheart?"

Haymitch's voice is far too calm for my liking. I swallow thickly before repeating myself. As if he didn't hear me the first time.

"That's what I thought you said," he says, releasing the flask. "I had just hoped I was mistaken."

"Nope, no mistake there," I say, laughing nervously. My eyes are trained on Haymitch and he just stares right back, his jaw tight.

"How did this happen?" He asks and I can tell by the strain in his calm tone that he is struggling to stay so. Oh well, I'll take what I can get.

"Yesterday, in the training center."

He grinds his jaw and I struggle not to show my apprehension. Ya, I'll be the first to admit I probably could have gone about this a little more skillfully.

"I asked _how_, not _when_." Oh. I open my mouth in a hurry to answer his question and then shut it, realizing that to answer him truthfully I will have to confess. A confession to directly disobeying his orders doesn't seem like it will, at the moment, be in my best interests.

"Cato doesn't ask just anyone to join his pack, sweetheart, and if you had been doing what I told you he wouldn't have." He levels me with a look and I avert my eyes down to my plate, trying to hide the heat that has risen to my face in a blush.

"So what did you do?" He asks, his voice making it clear he won't tolerate evasion. I glance briefly up at Peeta and my heart clenches to see that he is staring at me with a guarded expression. When I catch him he quickly turns back to his plate. I sigh and turn back to Haymitch. Time to own up.

"He was saying crap about our District and Peeta and it pissed me off so I may have revealed my archery skills," I let out in one breath. I sit up taller and brace myself for the shit storm I am sure is to come but, before Haymitch can say anything, Effie emits a shrill squeal that makes everybody jump.

We all turn to stare at her and I raise my eyebrow in utter disbelief as she begins to clap her hands. "Katniss!" she shrieks, turning to me. I shrink back in my seat, more frightened of her than I had been of Haymitch. "You can join the careers! You can join them and then you'll be safe!" She claps again for a moment and suddenly freezes. She turns to Peeta as if just now remembering that there is another tribute in the room.

Her mouth hangs open, reminding me and awful lot of the fish we had been eating before my announcement, but before it can get too awkward she lets out another piercing screech. I just barely resisted the urge to cover my ears and lower my head.

"You can protect Peeta!" She says, her eyes bulging, as if she has just solved the one and only question of the universe. "You can be like a spy and relay information back to him!"

"Oh yes, I'm sure the careers wouldn't notice me run off every now and again since we will be living together and all." I try not to let too much disgust seep into my tone, but even for Effie this idea is air-brained. She had been growing on me due to her kindness and the fact that she meant well, despite being completely ignorant, but anything I might have felt for her was threatening to disappear.

"I was thinking I wouldn't join at all. I could just stick with Peeta." I turn to Peeta to see that he is still looking at Effie with a distaste akin to what I had just felt. I immediately feel more connected to him, maybe we aren't so different after-all. When he hears his name he turns to me and his eyes widen in what I could only call gratefulness.

"Really? You would stick with me?" He looks so relieved that I can't help but sympathize slightly with him. He doesn't know how to hunt, find berries, use weapons, or do _anything_ of use really, except for hand-to-hand combat. I am his only chance. The thought is humbling and suddenly I can't blame him for not wanting to pose a threat to or anger Cato by standing up to him in any way.

His blue eyes are still looking at me hopefully, but before I could reassure him Haymitch cuts in.

"No," he snaps, "she won't."

I turn back to Haymitch irritated and surprised. Wasn't that his whole plan anyway, for Peeta and I to stick together?

"Why not?" I ask sharply, my voice harsher than I had intended.

He narrows his eye's at me. "If you refuse Cato you'll be number one on his hit list. He'll stop at nothing to kill you and I assure you when he does it won't be pretty." Dread stirs in my stomach at his words. "Even if he doesn't particularly need your skills, if you reject him his pride will be hurt. You won't survive someone like him searching you out. He'll be relentless and he _will_ succeed."

Silence rings in the room as we all absorbed his words. They had the cold finality of death and threw such a thick blanket of morbid promise over the room that no one says anything for several minutes.

Finally I got up the courage to speak, "I have to join then." My voice was rough.

"You have to, sweetheart." Haymitch confirms, his voice betraying some sympathy.

Peeta scoots his chair back and promptly leaves the room. I follow his form as he walks stiffly and swiftly across the room and turns into the hallway. We all hear his bedroom door slam closed. I stare down at my plate, ashamed as I realized that my rash actions yesterday have probably signed and sealed Peeta's death sentence. Then I shake my head when I realize that he would have probably died anyway. After all, we can't both win. To feel guilty is ridiculous, but for some reason I can't quench the feeling.

I push my chair back, glancing once more into Haymitch's sad eyes before following the direction Peeta has taken and turning into my room, slamming the door behind me. I then proceed to flop onto the bed and bury my head in my pillow, as if that will make everthing around me just disappear. Unfortunately, life doesn't work that way.

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**. . .**

**I wanted to mention that I was _thinking_ about doing a Cato POV story along with this one so let me know what you think.**

**I also wanted to ask has anyone else noticed what an awkward word awkward is to spell?**

**Anyway, bye**


	4. Heat

**Disclaimer: The characters belong entirely to Suzanne Collins**

**Hey guys. I know, I'm a liar. I said two weeks and I was so, so wrong. Sorry it's been forever. I've been pretty busy looking up college apps and scholarship apps and school but still.. I have applied to UC Irvine and UC Davis. Prayers that I get in!**

**Thank you to all of you who reviewed! Really, it means everything.**

**I hope u like this chapter.**

**Review if you don't hate me!**

..

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...

Giant, organ-eating, monster butterflies flutter around in my chest as I try to get up the courage to just walk over to him. I am sure he knows I'm staring at him. I've been staring for at least five minutes.

Most of the Tributes are in this section of the Training Center, but it's large enough that everyone can have their space. Cato has more space than most since the others have learned to steer clear of him when he's got a sword in hand. The near gutting taken by the girl from District 11 when she wandered a tad too close taught everyone that lesson. Though, she should have known better really. Cato's short fuse is no secret, as well as his habit of rather dramatic reactions. Thanks to these intimidating traits of his, I happen to be the only person within twenty feet of him.

Seeing as what nearly happened to District 11 the moment she was in range, I'm surprised and maybe a little insulted that he hasn't even acknowledged my presence yet. I don't know why it's so hard for me to just go up to him. The decision is already made. But as I look at him, covered in sweat, blue eyes narrowed in concentration, blonde hair sticking up every which way as if he didn't bothered to comb it this morning, I find I have a hard time making my feet move me forward. The monster butterflies seem to be affecting the function of my limbs. Their presence is, I'm sure, due to my guilt for Peeta –he's been ignoring me all day though I can't say I'm surprised– and my trepidation for what joining the Careers will mean if I return to District 12. We've always hated the careers and now, I will be one. And so I just stand, watching.

A minute passes before Cato finally turns his blue eyes on me and my heart rate picks up immediately. He confirms my suspicions with his next words.

"Are you just going to stand there all day, District 12, or do you actually have something to say? I know I'm unbelievably attractive, better than what you're used to, but there's a point when the staring goes from flattering to creepy."

Of course he knew just what to say to irritate me and make the monster butterflies die down. My feet seem to work again and they walk to him, stopping when I am only a yard away.

"I don't know why you think I would find you attractive, especially in the state you're in." I retort, feigning disgust. "They tell you in District 2 that you're the best, don't they? I suppose hearing that everyday would give anyone a complex." I shake my head and look up to see his narrowed eyes.

"I _am_ the best." He sounds frustrated, probably wondering how anyone could think him less than perfect. His expression is a mixture of irritation and disbelief and I am immediately reminded of the last time he looked that way. A blush rises to my cheeks before I can control it.

"Anyway," I say sharply, changing the subject, "I just wanted to tell you that I accept."

His mouth lifts into a smirk and he gives me a knowing look.

"Of course you do," he shakes his head like I'm an idiot, "You'd be stupid not to." My embarrassment vanishes and there is a bitter taste in my mouth.

"So I've been told."

He doesn't seem to know how to respond to the sudden change in my tone and stares at me, as if trying to figure me out. His eyes are far too probing for my comfort. I turn away and wrack my mind for something else to say, but my mind doesn't seem to be working. Instead it is clogged with images of Prim and for some reason my father. I wonder what he would have made of this if he was still alive. I hope he would have been proud of my determination to win, no matter what.

A tugging on my hair brings me back to the present and I look up to see that Cato has a hold of my braid.

"What is it, fire girl?" He asks it quietly, but his eyes betray a mild curiosity and I fear that I've let my expression show too much of what I'm feeling. I knock away his hand but he doesn't shift his gaze.

"You nervous about the private session with the game makers today? Don't think you quite reach our standards?" He gives me a sympathetic look. I'm taken aback by his seemingly sincere concern and, for a moment, I'm grateful that he's mistaken the emotion on my face as self-doubt. Then I register his implication: they're better than me and I have no confidence. "Don't worry," he continues, "I'm sure you'll be just—" I interrupt him, furious that he seems to think he is really doing me a favor.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence but trust me I am not worried," I spit. His blue eyes dance and the edges of his lips lift in a smirk. It's then that I realize he's just teasing me, patronizing me because he knows he'll get a rise. Unfortunately there has always been a disconnection between my brain and my mouth. "If anything," I continue, "I'm worried about having to spend an undefined amount of time with stuck up, self-centered, vicious, spoiled children."

His smirk falls and he takes a step back. His face is expressionless but his eyes are blazing and I suddenly wonder at the wisdom of angering someone who has such an effect on my possible chances of winning.

"Look, _Katniss_, I know perfectly well that you reach our standards. If I didn't you wouldn't be here talking to me now," he growls. His hand is clenching and unclenching around his sword and I fight the instinct that's telling me to retreat to safer ground. "You are too easy to get a rise out of, I swear. You don't have to be so defensive about everything, but if the concept of joining me is truly so disgusting to you then don't. No one is forcing you and I'm sure the others certainly won't miss you."

"No!" I say, alarmed and trying to backtrack, cursing my big mouth. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I didn't realize…." I close my mouth, suddenly embarrassed by how harsh my words had been, though really they weren't false. I finally spit out what needs to be clear. "I'm joining."

"What on earth are you two getting so worked up over?" I turn my head towards the flat sounding voice and find myself face-to-forehead with the girl from District 2, Clove. I look down to find that her grey eyes are switching between us curiously.

"Nothing," Cato says flatly, turning somewhat away from us to swing his sword in a graceful arc. "We were clearing up some business. Katniss will be working with us."

Clove turns her silver eyes on me and I am slightly shaken by how penetrating they are. I keep my expression clear. This first impression will either win her over or set her against me and I need as few direct enemies as possible in these games.

"With the noise you too were making it sure seemed like more than just a discussion." Her eyes rake over me before she turns to study Cato intently. He raises his eyes to her and they are once again an impenetrable steel.

"Drop it." His tone matches his expression and it's obvious his patience is spent. Clove stares at him for a moment before shrugging indifferently and then turning to me.

"So, you're one of us now, eh?" Her tone is amused and it makes me nervous, but I straighten my shoulders and stand tall before answering.

"Yes."

She nods, not bothering to hide her smirk. "I don't mind, you're certainly skilled enough. Good luck winning over Glimmer though. But I have a feeling Marvel will be more than welcoming." She is full out smiling now and it is slightly disturbing, to be honest.

Before I can form a response there is a loud clanging sound. We both turn to Cato and I am dumbstruck to see his precious sword lying on the ground several feet away. His face is flushed, hands and jaw clenched tightly together, and he looks as if he is dying to lash out at something. He's terrifying.

"Clove, leave." He bites out, as if moving any muscle too much will be the end of his tentative grip on control. Clove's eyes shine with amusement as she continues to smile, apparently not shaken by his sudden violent reaction to seemingly nothing at all.

"It was nice meeting you, Katniss," she says lightly, throwing one last, almost sympathetic, smile at Cato before dancing away towards the Center's stash of knives. My eyes follow her for a few shocked moments before swiveling back to take in the boy. He seems almost frozen. His eyes are closed and every muscle in his body is rigid.

"Cato," I say it hesitantly, almost as a question. I don't know what set him off in the first place but I certainly don't want to make it worse. Almost a half minute passes and the silence drags on before he finally lets out a deep breath. All of his muscles relax at the same time. When he opens his eyes they are cool and emotionless as they bore into mine. "Go shoot or something. I'll introduce you to Glimmer and Marvel," he clenches his teeth around the last name, "at lunch."

I hesitate before asking my question, "What about District 4? They're part of your group aren't they?"

He shrugs. "Unfortunately. Don't worry about them. They're unimportant."

He turns away from me, picking up his sword and I try not to take offence at his obvious dismissal. What am I, a puppet? I let out a sigh. That's exactly what I am to them. I'm suddenly incredibly exhausted mentally. This day has been too long already and it's not even halfway over.

. . .

* * *

..

Lunch comes and I search out the District 2 tributes among the others. I spent the rest of the morning attempting to learn how to make better snares. My father taught me how to set a few, back when we used to hunt, but I know nothing more than simple ones for catching small game. None of those are nearly large enough to catch a human. Just thinking it makes me sick.

I also shot the bow just to make sure that my aim would be straight during my private session. I _am_ slightly nervous about that, despite what I told Cato. My score will determine the amount of sponsors I will get. If I get a low score, I'm dead. One thing I'm not nervous about is Glimmer and Marvel. It doesn't matter whether they like me or not. I've got the protection of District 2 and I trust Cato, however ludicrous that is in a game of murder and backstabbing. He wants me, Clove seemed to accept me, and they lead the alliance so until he wants me dead, I have nothing to fear from the other Careers.

We are all ushered into the lunch room and I look around until I spot Clove. I maneuver around the people in front of me, hoping to get to her before she sits down. It will be infinitely less uncomfortable for me if I'm already with her or Cato when I meet Marvel and Glimmer. Cato would be the obvious choice since he's the one who made the decision to take me on board, but at the moment he is nowhere to be found.

And so, it is while I am in the process of striding purposefully across the room that my path is obstructed by another tribute. Aggravated, I look up to find myself looking into deep blue eyes, and they're not Cato's. I can immediately tell that my district partner is attempting to look aloof, but his twitchiness is a dead giveaway to his nerves. His eyes shift from side to side as if trying to avoid my gaze and I feel my heart clench, unexpectedly.

"Hey," I say softly. He hasn't said anything and I'm not really sure what he wants, but I certainly don't want to scare him off. He seems ready to bolt.

He finally looks down at me and his expression is fiercer than I expect it to be. I keep my expression smooth and meet his eyes unwaveringly. If he has something to say I'm ready to hear it, no matter how much it might hurt later.

"You're joining them then." His voice is rough and shaky and it makes my heart clench again. Though what he says is a statement I can hear, clear as day, the question behind it. Feel the hope that I will tell him 'No, no, I'm not'.

"Yes." His eyes close tightly for a moment and I struggle to breathe evenly as my throat tightens up. He lets out a slow breath and when he opens his eyes again I involuntarily step back at their intensity. They are blazing and desperate and hopeless and sad, so, _so_ sad all at once and I close _my_ eyes because I can't take it.

He doesn't say anything for a long time and we just stand there, nothing else in the room existing, and for the moment, time seems infinite. Only us, in this eternal bubble trying to come to terms with the fact that the odds aren't in our favor. But for one of us, they are practically non-existent, and that's the killer. It's my fault. That unspoken weight of knowledge between us is crushing. It is _my fault. _If I hadn't reacted to Cato like I did then, in all likelihood, we wouldn't be in the situation we are now. But the worst part, for me, is the recognition that I can't completely regret it. That I know, deep down, my chances of winning have increased with my new position. Increased exponentially. There is only one winner in these games and that will be me. But the look on Peeta's face is almost too much. I try to find the words to tell him how sorry I am, for his situation. But it's hard to speak past the lump in my throat.

"Peeta –"

"Don't." His tone is sharp and I snap my mouth shut, swallowing thickly to control my emotions. I open my mouth to try again but what comes out isn't my voice.

"What's going on here? What do you want dough boy?" Cato. I look up and want to tell him to back off but his eyes are focused on Peeta. Slightly narrowed and not at all friendly. Though he is standing mostly next to me he is angled in a way that puts his shoulder slightly in front of mine, between Peeta and myself. We both watch as he reaches up with that hand to finger the loose end of my braid. Possessively. I ignore the strange feeling it ignites in my stomach.

Peeta raises his gaze to Cato's face and right before my eyes, his expression transforms. The mixture of emotion leaves his face as it is slowly taken over by a thick cloud of rage. He flushes a faint pink and his eyes flame. There is such fury in his gaze that it's actually frightening.

"What do you think you're playing at?" He bites out the words fiercely to Cato who gives no other expression than mildly amused surprise.

"Wow District 12, what's got you so worked up?" Cato smirks and Peeta narrows his eyes and Peeta's glare turns sharp.

"You know where we are. Only one of us gets out. What are you going to do? If you're really planning on toying with her like that then you are far crueler than I ever gave you credit for. And trust me, that is saying something." His voice is deep and dangerous but when Cato responds his is even more so. I have the uncomfortable feeling that they are now talking about me, but I don't know what they mean. 'Toying with _me_'?

"I don't know what you're talking about, but this doesn't involve you, regardless," Cato snaps back. "You would do well to keep your nose in your own business and out of hers."

"It is my business! She's my district partner and that makes—"

I glance around, finally noticing the silence of the room, and am startled to find 48 eyes trained solidly on us. I swallow nervously. "Look Peeta," I cut him off mid tirade, "maybe you should go."

I don't want him to say anything that will piss Cato off more, especially since I am sure I can keep the careers off his back for a while once when enter the arena. But I don't have a chance if Cato is dead set on hunting him down and killing him first. I also don't feel comfortable having this discussion, or more like dogfight, with such an audience.

Peeta doesn't follow my line of thinking and looks down at me in disbelief and betrayal so strong that I can almost taste it. I feel tears starting to burn at the back of my eyes in response, but resolutely refuse to let them leak out. I will not show weakness. We all stand for an interminable moment in tense silence, all seemingly waiting for someone else to make a move, back down. Cato's hard eyes don't leave Peeta.

Peeta glares back at him for several seconds before, finally he seems to realize that Cato won't back down. His jaw clenches, the only outward sign of his thoughts and then he turns on his heel and walks stiffly away, heading for the lunch line.

The tense atmosphere cracks as the other tributes slowly turn back to their plates.

As the attention fades, I gasp in a deep breath that I didn't realize I'd been holding. I have to close my eyes and force my tense muscles to relax. When I open them again I see Cato has turned to face me, but I keep my head down, not trusting my expression. I hadn't expected that encounter with Peeta. Hadn't been prepared at all. Honestly, he couldn't have confronted me when we were alone?

"You sure know how to draw attention to yourself, don't you fire girl?" Cato chuckles, his breath ghosting across my ear and raising goose bumps. "First the parade, then that little exhibition in the training center, and now this. One would think you liked the attention." I look up at him to see his eyes are squinted in amusement. I feel sick.

"Come on," he says, grasping my shoulder as he turns us toward the center of the room. "It's time to introduce you to the other Careers." I hesitate, and turn back to look at Peeta. He is now sitting on a bench by himself with his head down, his eyes focused on his food. I swallow not sure how to feel, and then turn to follow Cato to the Career table.

...

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**-maddz**


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